We Meet Again
by XxWaywardDaughterxX
Summary: I've known Dean Winchester nearly my entire life. I was his best friend until he was four and I was three. I saw him the day before his mother died; the week that his dad took him and Sam away. I never even got to say goodbye. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Hello everyone! This is a new story and the first one that I've written, so please be gentle with me. I used to be against having characters be with OC's, but then this little gem popped into my mind and I wasn't exactly comfortable matching either one of the Winchester men with the women that have been in the show. They just didn't seem to match up correctly with where I wanted this story to go. So, I have decided to create Scarlet Blackwood. I would give you a description of her, but I think I'll let the story take care of that. I will be putting a childhood scene here, but I will not be doing little kid talk because it's difficult for me. Review, please!

**Summary:** I've known Dean Winchester nearly my entire life. I was his best friend until he was four and I was three. I saw him the day before his mother died; the week that his dad took him and Sam away. I never even got to say goodbye. Since that day, I've seen him exactly five times. Three out of five of those times, he never even saw me. Once, he glanced my way, but I don't think it really registered in his mind that it was me. The fifth and final time he looked right at me. And he smiled. That was when he was probably around eighteen and I was seventeen. I couldn't speak to him any of those times though because my father was there. He's a hunter and he doesn't want to associate with "normal" people. Since I was little he's been teaching me the ropes of the profession and I've lost all of my friends. But one thing in my life has remained constant; my feelings for Dean Winchester.

**Disclaimer: **As much as I love the characters of this series, I do not own any of them. Scarlet's mine, though, so don't even think about taking her. ;)

::+::+::+::

**Chapter 1**

_November 1__st__, 1983_

I was sitting on the swing at the park across the street from my house. My legs couldn't reach the ground no matter how hard I tried. I also couldn't swing on my own; my daddy does that for me. I'm pretty sure that Mommy would have done that, but she died when I was just six months old. A fire, I think. Ever since then, my daddy has been the one who had to take me to the park and push me on the swing. Or when he was working, which is often, I would be taken to the park by some grumpy old lady. They were never fun, they just complained about their 'old bones' and sat on the park bench. They never pushed me like I wanted them to. Whenever I asked politely and even said please, they still said no.

I sighed. Today was one of those days where I just sat on the swing, trying to figure out how to swing myself. No one has ever actually taught me. They just push and push; never quite letting me know how to do it myself. As hard as I try to mimic the kids on the other swings, I just can't quite get it right. There are also some kids that always ask me why I just sit here not doing anything. There are rude ones that try to push me off so they can swing, but I don't let them. This is my swing. I even have my initials etched on the bottom of it. Daddy did that for me. For some reason, just showing that to the others makes them go away and not ask again.

With my head hanging down, I just once more to pump my legs like the kids next to me. I feel the swing rock slightly back and forward, but not as high as the others. I put more power behind my kicks and all of a sudden, I fly forward. I squeal like the young three year old that I am. _I finally did it! I can swing all by myself! _I laugh and laugh. But then I notice something. I'm still swinging, but I'm not pumping my legs anymore.

I try and twist to see over my shoulder, but I can't see because my hair is in the way. Twisting farther, I feel my balance start to shift and I'm falling. I slip out of the swing and land on my butt on the mulch. It doesn't hurt because I wasn't too high up.

I look behind my swing and smile. I should've known. Of course I can't swing by myself, but he is the next best thing. Standing there, holding the swing from coming back and hitting me, is Dean Winchester. My best friend. I laugh to myself and think, _and one day we'll get married and have so many babies to take care of. _

Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement at the bench where Mrs. Young is sitting. I look over to see Mrs. Winchester sit down next to my babysitter and they strike up conversation. I shake my head and laugh. Mrs. Young is the most boring person I know, so I'm not entirely sure why Mrs. Winchester would want to talk to _her_.

I shriek when someone starts to tickle my neck. Of course, I know who it is because only a handful of people know that I'm ticklish there. _Okay, that's a lie; everyone knows that I'm ticklish there. _Pushing Dean's hand away, I turn to look at him. I always laugh at how polar opposites we are from one another. He has deep, emerald eyes with light brown hair and I have light brown, almost amber eyes with hair so black it almost looks purple in the sunlight.

"Hey, Scar." That's Dean's nickname for me. I've heard from Daddy that only one other person has ever called me that. My mommy used to before she died. He doesn't let anyone else call me that, but with Dean, he doesn't seem to mind. Maybe it's because he's a kid, like me, or because he just doesn't necessarily care. Whichever, I'm glad because I like it when Dean calls me that.

"Hey, D." That's my nickname for him. Just his initial. D. It's simplistic and it fits him. Maybe when we're older I'll call him by his full name, but for now, it doesn't matter.

I hit him on the arm as hard as I could. For a three year old, that's not hard at all. I know it didn't hurt him, but he acts as if I just broke his arm in three different places. I giggle, but then I remember that I'm mad and make a frowny face.

Laughing, Dean asks "What was that for?! I didn't do anything!" He keeps rubbing his arm as if it still hurts. I snort, _as if. _

"You pushed me when I was swinging! I thought that I was doing all by myself! But _no, _Dean Winchester had to come and push me. Gosh, I just wanted to learn how to do it myself!" At first, I was teasing, but I can admit that I am genuinely upset that I can't swing myself.

Dean's face sobered. He scrambles to stand up and when he does, he reaches down for my hand. "Well, you wanna learn how to swing? Then I'll show you."

I look at him in awe. The sun is positioned directly behind him, making his body dark, but his hair shine. His green eyes sparkle with childish happiness and I can't help but smile. I can safely tell you right now that I like Dean Winchester. I like, like Dean. He's my first crush and my only one right now. Reaching up, I grasp his hand and he leads me to my swing.

I sit down and he positions himself behind me. I can feel him start to push the swing back and forth.

"Okay, Scar, when I have you a little higher, I want you to start swinging your legs back and forth." I do just as he tells me. I start to swing my legs forward and backward as fast and as hard as I could. I can immediately tell that I'm doing it wrong.

"Hang on, Scar. I wanna show you how to do it. I'll tell you what I do and when I do it." He stops the swing and I climb down. I want to cry, but I don't want to show Dean any weakness. He clambers onto the swing and he starts to effortlessly pump his legs. Soon enough, he's swinging as high as the kids that are being pushed by their parents and the ones that can swing themselves.

Slowing down, he stops swinging his legs and turns to look at me. "It's all about timing, Scar. When you start to swing forward, pump your legs back. When you're swinging backwards, pump your legs forward. Also, move your arms the same way your legs are going, it gives you more power. Take it slow too. I can promise you, you'll be swinging like a pro in no time." He hops off the swing and stands behind me again while I climb onto the swing.

I put my hands on the chains and I wait until Dean gives me a little push. As I swing forward, I pull the chain toward me and swing my legs back. I hear Dean move out of my way as I swing backward. I do the exact opposite when I go back. I start to swing higher and higher. Soon, I feel as if I can touch the heavens and see the angels. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins and I'm as happy as can be.

I slow down and stop the swing. I jump off and run towards Dean as fast I can. I hug him tight and start to scream, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Over and over again until he finally pushes me away.

He just smiles down at me and says, "You're welcome. You're a natural, Scar."

For the next half hour, we run around the playground, playing and laughing. We play until we both hear, "Honey, time to go home." Stopping in our tracks, we turn to look and see Mrs. Young and Mrs. Winchester standing and waiting for us. I frown. I guess it's time for us to go.

We walk over to them and I turn to Dean. "See you tomorrow?" I ask hopefully.

Dean looks over at his mother and she replies, "Sorry, honey, but we have plans tomorrow. We'll see if we have time to come here the day after that, okay?" Dean and I jump up and down yelling, "Yay, yay, yay!"

Settling down, I give Dean a hug and say goodbye. I grab onto Mrs. Young's hand as we near the street, but I don't check both ways. I just keep my eyes on Dean and his mother. I see Dean doing the same thing, not paying attention to where he's walking, just watching me and Mrs. Young. When I reach my house, the front door closing behind me severs the connection between Dean's and my eyes.

::+::+::+::

Waiting for two days seemed like forever. Finally the sun rose on November 3rd, and I shot out of bed like a bullet. I ran down the stairs, nearly skidding into the kitchen. I squeal in delight when I see Daddy sitting at the kitchen table. I run full speed toward him, only slowing down when his posture registers in my mind. There's something wrong. Now walking timidly, I reach him and start to climb onto his lap. His hands are covering his eyes, but his arms have spread wide to accommodate me.

Grabbing onto his arms, I try to pry his hands away from his eyes. At first, he doesn't budge, but after whining a bit, he relents and lets me pull his hands away from his eyes. I frown as I see his eyes are red rimmed. He's been crying. I can tell. _There's definitely something wrong, Daddy never cries. _"What's wrong, Daddy?"

He tries to smile, but it never reaches his eyes. This is strange to me, whenever he smiles at me, his eyes always sparkle and they crinkle at the corners, but now there's no sign of either. His voice cracks as he tries to say, "Nothing important, honey." He finally manages to squeeze it out, but then he shakes his head and tries once more. "Do you remember Mrs. Winchester, baby? Dean's mommy?"

I nod my head vigorously and say, "Yes! I saw her two days ago and I'm going to see her and Dean again today at the park! She said so! They'll be there!" I try and scramble down to get ready to go to the park, but Daddy holds on to me tighter.

I look at him and I see that his eyes have closed. "No, honey, you won't see them today at the park."

Immediately I start to protest. "Daddy, I wanna go! I wanna see Dean!" I continue to whine until Daddy stops me.

"Sweetie, you're not going to see Dean at the park today. He's not really going out anywhere right now. Honey, Mrs. Winchester went to Heaven last night. She passed away in a fire."

My eyes widened. "She went to Heaven? Where Mommy is?"

Daddy smiled. "Yes, honey. Where Mommy is." I couldn't quite wrap my brain around it. I had just seen her two days ago. She was fine and now I'll never see her again. I start to cry because it all reminds me of when I think that I'll never see my mommy again.

A short while later after I've stopped crying, I look to Daddy and ask, "Can I go see Dean wherever he is? I wanna give him a hug and talk to him." I expect him to be agreeable, but then I see his expression become sadder.

"No, honey. I can't take you to see Dean right now. I don't know where he is. His daddy took him and his little brother away earlier this morning. They left, sweetie and I'm not sure if they're coming back."

Everything went black then and I can't remember what happened in the days that followed.

::+::+::+::

_July 13__th__, 1987_

As I'm sitting in the mall food court with Dad, I look over his shoulder and see Dean sitting in a booth with his younger brother, Sammy.

"Dad, look! It's Sam and Dean. I'm going to go say hi!" I move to get out of my chair, but Dad grabs my hand.

"No, Scarlet. Leave them be. You know what I say about talking to 'normal' people. I won't allow it. Besides, we have to leave soon if we're going to make it to Missouri by tomorrow. I'll teach you how to take care of a spirit." Dad lets go of my hand and returns to his meal.

Looking back toward the booth that I saw Sam and Dean in, I find it now empty.

::+::+::+::

_February 6__th__, 1989_

Once again, I see Dean.

I'm with another one of my babysitters because Dad doesn't want me to be with him on this case. Apparently, this one is too dangerous. I don't quite understand why because he's taught me all I need to know about how to shoot, clean, and take care of a gun. I can't go with him and I guess I also need to be watched.

I'm just sitting on a bench on the side of the road and see Dean with his brother and father talking to some woman who appears to be crying. I'm not sure how they know her, but I feel jealous when I see Dean talking to a girl that's around his age.

I shake my head. I know better. Dad would be furious if I were to march over there and punch her in her dainty little button nose. That would ever me knife sharpening and gun cleaning for months!

So, I stay where I'm sitting. I silently watch Dean and his family until they leave.

::+::+::+::

_September 27__th__, 1989_

I saw him again. But the same thing happened. I saw him, he didn't see me. I couldn't speak to him, so I didn't even try to get his attention. It would've been worse this time because Dad's sitting right next to me. I sigh. If I were to keep this up, I'd never speak to Dean Winchester again.

::+::+::+::

_May 4__th__, 1993_

I'm at the grocery store when I see him again. He's in the cereal aisle, holding a box of Lucky Charms. I notice that Sam is standing right next to him, looking around. As if he's keeping watch for something. I scowl. It reminds me too much of when my father makes me do the same thing when we're out on a hunt.

As I'm reminiscing, I didn't notice that Sam's eyes came to rest on me. He frowns and taps Dean on the shoulder. I turn away as Dean's notice falls on me. I secretly hope that he'll come to talk to me, but when I look back, I just see Dean talking to Sam.

I am close enough to hear if I try hard enough. And tried hard I did. Straining my ears, I hear Dean tell Sam, "Don't worry about her, Sammy, she's nothing special."

I freeze. It feels like my heart has been crushed, my lungs squeezed, and my stomach cramped. It _hurt _to hear him say that. After all of this time, I still like Dean Winchester. _No, _I tell myself, _you've fallen in love with him. You keep having dreams of him and you love him. You love Dean Winchester._

::+::+::+::

_December 12__th__, 1997_

I'm at the mall with some friends from school, looking for supplies for our project. It's due as part of our final. I'm talking with one of the girls, when I hear the others giggling and whispering about a cute boy that's staring over at us.

Following their gaze, I meet the eyes of Dean Winchester. He's watching me and I watch him in return. I notice that his eyes have aged. Not in the literal way, the metaphorical way. As if he's seen pain and suffering. I can relate to that. A handful of hunts would do that to you.

I see recognition blaze in his eyes and he smiles at me. Without conscious thought, my lips lift to mirror his. In the background I can hear the girls whispering and pointing at me and Dean, but I pay them no mind. I only have eyes for Dean Winchester, which has become the normal.

We keep our eyes on each other until I see John, Dean's dad, walk up to him and look at me. Dean turns to John and they seem to be arguing until Dean's shoulders hunch over. John walks away with Sam in tow.

I continue to watch Dean until he meets my eyes once again. Now there's an apology in them. I take a step forward, but stop when Dean turns and walks in the direction John and Sam left in.

I watch Dean's retreating back as the girls start to push my shoulders and ask for details about 'the hot guy with the rocking body.' Dean may be those things, but he's more to me than that. He's Dean Winchester, the boy who taught me how to swing.

::+::+::+::

_February 21__st__, 2008_

I wish I could say I knew why I was arrested. I wish I could say that I didn't do anything wrong, but with the profession comes the illegal. I am currently in a jail cell in a police station that resides in Monument, Colorado.

I was in my motel room when I heard a knock on my door. Opening it, I wished I could close it straight away, but that's difficult when there's a steel-toed boot blocking the way.

"Can I help you, Agent?" You heard me right. There's a FBI agent standing in the doorway of my room. I just know that this won't end up well for me.

The agent smirks and says, "I believe you can. I'm Agent Henriksen and I want to ask you a few questions." He stand there patiently with his foot still planted firmly against the doorframe.

I nod cautiously and turn to glance into my room. There are no guns or knives in sight, so I open the door wider to let Agent Henriksen inside. He steps into the room and looks around. I see his eyes land on my duffle bag in the corner, but doesn't make a move toward it. This is all fine and dandy because I know my rights. Without a warrant, he can't touch anything on the inside of that bag.

He takes a seat on the couch and I take a seat on the armchair across from him. "Where to begin?" He seems to ask himself. "Do you travel a lot, Miss…?" I realize belatedly that he's asking for my name, so I reply, "Yes, I do. My name is Violet Underwood."

"I see, Miss Underwood. Do you know, perhaps, what happened in St. Louis about two years ago?" Agent Henriksen is watching my reaction very closely, as to determine if I'm telling the truth or not.

"No, I'm not quite sure what you're talking about. I'm positive that a lot happened in St. Louis that year." That was a complete and utter lie because I knew exactly what happened there. Something that had to do with Dean. I heard that he killed several people before he was shot in the heart.

"Well, I want to know if you know someone by the name of Dean Winchester. Or you may know his brother, Samuel Winchester." Again, he's watching my face very closely. I have to tread lightly.

"No, I'm sorry, Agent. I don't know who you're talking about." _Liar, all you think about is finding Sam and Dean. You know you don't believe that he's dead. _I keep my eyes trained on the FBI agent, because I know he's looking for a chink in my armor.

Henriksen stands and walks around my room until he's directly behind me with his hands on the chair. I feel him lean over and he whispers in my ear. "Well, Scarlet Blackwood, I believe it's illegal to lie to a FBI agent." I can practically _hear _the smirk in his voice. "Stand up." I do as he says. "Scarlet Blackwood, you're under arrest."

That is how I found myself in a jail cell, banging my head off the bars behind me.

Out of nowhere, I heard some loud voices. I stretch to try and see what's happening when I hear the doors to the cell block swing open. I turn my head away so the newcomers can't see my face. I hear Henriksen say, "Well, Dean. Sam. It looks like we finally found you."

I freeze. It's Sam and Dean. _I knew it! I knew he was okay! _I allow myself a moment of happiness. Then I hear Henriksen's voice again. "Say hello, Scarlet. I know you know who they are."

I can faintly hear a quiet gasp, but don't need to ask how it might have been. I knew it was Dean. It can only ever be Dean in my mind. I turn myself around to face Henriksen and the Winchesters. I look towards Henriksen and smirk. "Thanks for bringing me some friends, Victor. I was getting a little lonely." I see anger, along with confusion pass across his face. He never told me his first name, but my hearing has become sharper with hunting in dark places.

"Don't be smart with me, Scarlet. Your entire future is held in my hands." He smirked right back, as if that was meant to be something threatening.

My expression doesn't change. "Well, then I'm dead." I deadpan. I hear some chuckles coming from my left. I know they're from the boys, so I don't need to look.

Henriksen stalks over to my cell and leans on the bars. "I'll put you in jail for the rest of your life if you're not careful." I laugh quietly. He's still trying to be threatening.

I move my hands from behind my back, having taken them out of the handcuffs a while ago. Reaching forward, I poke Henriksen on the nose and say, "Boop!"

Springing away from the bars, Henriksen turns on his heel and leaves the room, the two other officers following closely behind him.

A few minutes later, I'm still watching the doors.

I hear my name come from my left. "Scar." It comes out slightly breathless, almost disbelieving.

Sighing, I turn and meet Dean's eyes. "Hi, D."

::+::+::+::

**AN: **This is the end of Chapter One! Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Hey guys! I know I have some readers out there, but I only have two reviewers! That's okay, but I hope to hear from you guys more. It'll make me feel better! BTW, big thanks to KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl and AnnieMouse for writing those reviews; it was much appreciated. To show you the extent of my thanks, I would like to dedicate this chapter to you both. I hope it lives up to your expectations! Oh, and I forgot to mention in my last AN that I have no Beta, so any and all mistakes that I fail to notice are mine and mine alone. Thank you and I hope you enjoy! Review, please!

**Disclaimer: **I, sadly, still do not own the characters of the Supernatural series. *sigh* But I will thank Mr. Eric Kripke for coming up with this beloved show. I will be using some lines directly from episode twelve of season three "Jus in Bello." As previously stated, the episode, the show, and the lines belong to their respective owners. I own Scarlet, though, so no touchy!

**Warnings: **Some adult language in this chapter.

::+::+::+::

_I move my hands from behind my back, having taken them out of the handcuffs a while ago. Reaching forward, I poke Henriksen on the nose and say, "Boop!"_

_Springing away from the bars, Henriksen turns on his heel and leaves the room, the two other officers following closely behind him. _

_A few minutes later, I'm still watching the doors. _

_I hear my name come from my left. "Scar." It comes out slightly breathless, almost disbelieving._

_Sighing, I turn and meet Dean's eyes. "Hi, D."_

We've been staring at each other for the past couple of minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Sam's head pivoting from side to side. I know he's trying to figure out just who the hell I was and what type of relationship I had with Dean. I silently laugh; _I don't have much of a relationship with him. Last time I saw him was when I was seventeen; eleven years ago. _

I hear Sam clear his throat to try and catch Dean's, or my, attention. Dean's head doesn't move, but I turn to look at him. It hurts just sitting there watching Dean and not knowing what could have happened between us had he stayed in Kansas. Or what could have happened any of the other times that I saw him. Shaking my head, I refocus my gaze on Sam's face.

If I didn't know any better, I would have said that Dean and Sam couldn't possibly be brothers. They look nothing alike. Where Dean has green eyes, Sam has hazel. Dean has light brown hair; Sam has dark brown, almost black hair. I think that Sam takes after John more and Dean takes after his mother more. I smile at the last memory that I have of Mary Winchester. She had the sweetest smile and the brightest soul. She was truly a breathtaking human being. With all the dark things that I've seen, she was and always has been a bright memory of mine. I just wish that I had more memories of my own mother.

I notice that Sam's looking at me in a strange way and realize that I've practically been checking him and his brother out. _Not creepy or anything, Scarlet. _

After another few minutes of tense silence, I finally break. "What?" This seems to break both of them out of the little spell they seemed to be under.

"Who exactly are you?" Sam's voice is weary, as if he doesn't know whether or not to trust me.

My eyes flicker over to Dean. I see that he's still watching me. I can't help but feel a little sad that he hasn't mentioned me to the most important person in his life. I chuckle internally at myself; _it's not like you were there throughout the majority of his life. For all you know, he could've forgotten all about you in the eleven years that he hasn't seen you. Well, that wouldn't make sense since he just called you by your name. _I close my eyes. I must really been going crazy. But I guess months and months travelling on the road alone can do that to a person.

My dad died three years back. We were hunting a werewolf when Dad tripped and his gun went off. It's a hell of a way to die for a hunter, but I suppose one of the more peaceful ways. He could've been eaten by the werewolf and died, but I guess it's a small mercy his death was quick.

Turning back to Sam and the conversation at hand, I reply, "I'm Scarlet Blackwood. You're Sam Winchester with your brother, Dean." Looking between the two of them, I notice that their hands are still cuffed behind their backs. Nodding my head in the direction of what I hope they take as their hands, I ask, "You want some help with those?"

Sam immediately agrees and turns his back towards me so I can pick the lock with the bobby pin I had in my hair. The cuffs open fairly easy and I turn to look at Dean. He seems to still be in a trance, so I hand Sam the bobby pin. He quickly takes care of Dean's cuffs and returns the pin back to me.

I'm watching the boys when we all hear a loud bang from the front of the station. Almost simultaneously, we all jump up. I crane my head around the corner to get a glimpse of the door. From my left, Dean asks, "Anything?" I scoff. I guess it figures that he would talk to me about what could be potentially dangerous. I can see why Dad never wanted me to associate with "normal" people.

"No, I don't see anything. I can see shapes, but no distinct features." Reaching down to my boot, I grab the knife that was hidden in there. With it in my hands, I immediately feel safer. My right hand fits perfectly into the grooves that are melded on the hilt of the blade. They're there due to years of use. This was my first knife. I've had it since I was seven. Dad gave it to me on my birthday.

"How'd you get that past them?" Sam asks incredulously.

I smirk. "I have my ways." Shaking my head, I try again. "I suppose they knew that one strong kick to the side of their head wasn't something they wanted to deal with. I am one hell of a fighter. Don't think they expected that." I laugh.

"I think you should back away from the bars, Scar. Hand the knife to me, too; I don't want you to hurt yourself with it." Dean sounds a little concerned. Almost as if he doesn't think that I could handle myself.

I raise my right eyebrow and cock my head slightly to the left. He really just said that to me. I manage to get a knife past an FBI agent and a handful of cops, after I kick one of their asses, and he still expects me to hand over _my _damn knife. _Sorry, honey, isn't gonna happen. _

Instead of dignifying that request with a response, I turn back to watch the doors. Not even a minute passes when a strange man saunters in. There's something off about him, though. He seems arrogant, more so than any other man that I had ever seen. He seems as if there was nothing that could touch him.

I feel unsettled. There was something wrong with this guy and I didn't like it. Not one bit.

The man walks forward and stops right outside of Dean and Sam's cell. He opens his mouth and says, "Sam and Dean Winchester." Then, he turns to me. "Scarlet Blackwood." To be the smart ass that I was, I salute him. He narrows his eyes and smirks, letting me know silently that he didn't think I was very funny. He continues, "I'm Deputy Director Steven Groves. This is a pleasure."

I know that Dean's going to say something stupid. Just like he always does. "Well, glad one of us feels that way." Yep, I knew it. He went and said something stupid.

A creepy, sinister smile appears on Groves' face. My grip on my knife becomes tighter. I have a feeling this is going to go downhill, fast. "I've been waiting a long time for you two to come out of the woodwork."

I couldn't exactly tell you who reacted first; me or Steven. One moment, Steven has a gun out and he shoots Dean in the shoulder. Next, or at the exact same, moment, my knife was embedded into Steven's forearm, which caused the gun to clatter to the ground.

Steven's head then whips in my direction, his eyes black. Without even hesitating, I start reciting an exorcism in Latin. The demon's head whips back and forth before Steven says, "Sorry, I've gotta cut this short. It's gonna be a long night, fellas." Black smoke erupts from Steven's throat and his body falls limp to the cell block's floor.

Focusing my eyes on Sam and Dean, I see that they're watching me with awe in their eyes. I suppose one would be surprised if they had just seen a demon for the first time and I had just taken care of it in the blink of an eye. I notice that the wall behind Dean was coating in crimson, along with his right hand and jacket. Steven had successfully hit him in his left shoulder.

Henriksen and two other officers, Phil and the sheriff, barge into the cell room, followed by Reidy. After seeing Steven's body on the floor, Henriksen and Melvin immediately train their firearms on Sam and Dean while Reidy checks over Steven's body. I laugh quietly. They always assume that I couldn't have been the one to hurt a man; after all, I'm only a woman.

Melvin, the sheriff, starts yelling. "You shot him!" Melvin starts to wave his gun back and forth, accusing Sam.

Sam immediately starts to protest. "Wait! No, I didn't shoot him! Look at the body!"

Before Melvin can turn, Reidy is already reporting back to them. "He wasn't shot. There are no bullet wounds anywhere. There's only a knife in his forearm, but that wouldn't have killed anyone." Phil takes off his hat and starts to scratch his head. Apparently, this is bewildering to him.

"He's probably been dead for months." My eyes widen. I was just thinking the exact same thing as it came out of Dean's mouth. _How could he possibly assume that? Anyone who wasn't a hunter would ever come to such a conclusion!_

Before I can even open my mouth to ask how he knew that, Henriksen comes closer to their cell's bars. "What did you do to him?"

This time I respond. "We didn't do anything major. I was the one to put the knife in his forearm to make him drop his gun. He was the one who shot Dean in the shoulder. I wasn't trying to hurt him. If I were trying to do that, the knife would've been in his neck." I wasn't exactly trying to sound like a murderer, but I was kind of in shock. I really think that Sam and Dean are hunters and if that were true, I could have spoken to Dean all of those times that I ran into him. I will be royally pissed off if that were true. No one can say what'll happen when I get pissed. I can tell you, though, that it's not pretty and no one comes out unscathed.

Henriksen doesn't even glance my way. "Talk or I'll shoot." I really don't think he's kidding.

Dean just retorts. "You wouldn't believe us." I swear to God, if he says what I think he's going to say next, I will march right out this cell and punch someone in the face.

It wasn't Dean that said it though. Sam did. "He was possessed."

I started speaking before I could stop myself. "God damn it! You have got to be fucking kidding!" Quieting down, I see that everyone is looking at me. I don't really care because I'm too damn pissed. "What? He's telling you the truth. Steven Groves there was possessed by a demon and I exorcised it." I somehow managed to get these words out with a straight face, despite my anger.

"Are you guys crazy? Let's get them out of here!" Reidy reaches into his pocket to speak to the helicopter pilot. "Hello? Bill, are you there?" There's no response, other than static. Looking towards Henriksen, he nods to Reidy to have him check outside.

After a few tense moments of silence, Reidy's voice comes through the other officers' walkie-talkies. "They're dead. I think they're all dead." Not too long after that, hardly a minute, there was a flash of light outside and a large bang. It sounded like the helicopter had exploded.

Henriksen starts to frantically call Reidy's name through the walkie-talkie, but there is no response. Only static. With my sensitive hearing, I can faintly hear a scream coming from outside. I don't say that I heard it out loud, because I instinctively knew that it was Reidy and it wasn't the fire that got to him.

With a signal from Henriksen, all of the officers leave the cell room and go back into the office area.

Knowing that a conversation was about to arise between me and the brothers, I decide that I was going to speak first. "So, you guys are hunters, huh?" I didn't want to mention that I was a hunter too. Not yet, anyway.

The only responses I get are two identical looks of bewilderment. I don't think they expected me to know what a hunter is. If they haven't figured out that I am too already, they really aren't as sharp as I thought they were. Sam was the first to collect his bearings. "Yeah, we are. You are too, aren't you?"

I didn't even open my mouth to respond before Dean erupts. "No! Of course she's not? She can't be! Why would you think so Sam?" Dean's eyes looked wild. It almost looks like he doesn't want me to be a hunter. Fact is, I already am.

"Why can't I be a hunter, Dean? Isn't is a profession for just about anyone? Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean that I'm not allowed to hunt." I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows. I can't wait to hear what comes from his mouth now.

Dean sputters and replies, "So you are a hunter. You didn't deny it."

I laugh. "No, I didn't deny it. It's true. I'm a hunter. I have been since I was six. That knife you see over there? A gift from my dad. It was my seventh birthday present." I didn't necessarily like talking about my childhood, considering I didn't have much of one. But as I look into Sam and Dean's eyes I can see that they've seen more than they bargained for too.

Before the conversation can go any farther, the lights go out. I hear a woman scream, but I assume that to be Nancy, the secretary that I saw on my way in here. Looking around and meeting the eyes of the brothers, I say, "That can't be good." By the looks on their faces, I see that they completely agree with me.

The doors from the office area swing open, revealing Nancy and officer Reidy. They head to the supply cabinet that's tucked away in the corner of the room. Nancy reaches in and hands Reidy some flashlights. Reidy immediately turns and takes them back to the office area.

Nancy's still there, reaching for more lights. She only resurfaces with one more flashlight in her hand before shutting the cabinet and turning to walk away. Sam speaks before she could leave. "Please, can you give me a towel? My brother's been shot. Can you just give me one clean towel?" Nancy turns and looks at Sam's kind, open face. Then she turns her gaze to Dean, who still has his hand pressed to his wound. She spins on her heel and exits the cell room.

Dean breathes, "Well, you tried."

Nancy comes back not a second later with a towel clutched in her hands. She doesn't approach Sam, though; she starts toward my cell. I observe her for a moment and see that she's going to hand me the towel to give to the boys.

Nancy cautiously walks close to my cell's bars and I reach out to take the towels. At the last second, I notice that she's wearing a rosary. I know that I might regret this, but I grab onto her arm and pull her towards me. Nancy starts to shriek as I pull the rosary from her neck.

I quickly let go and take several steps back as Reidy barges back into the room, pointing his gun toward me. I raise my hands to show him that I only have the towel in my hand. I have just hidden the rosary behind the towel so Nancy doesn't see it and request for it back. Seemingly satisfied, Reidy takes Nancy gently by the arm and leads her back to the office area.

"What the hell was that, Scar?" Dean's voice was disapproving. I roll my eyes. It's been over twenty years since the last time we spoke and here he was, giving me a lecture.

I hand Sam the towel so he can take care of Dean's wound. To answer Dean's question, I silently hold up Nancy's rosary. From the looks on their faces, I can tell that they are grudgingly impressed.

Taking the rosary, I start to make holy water from the toilet in my cell. You never know when you'll need it when being under attack from demons.

After taking care of that, Henriksen walks into the room. He starts asking all these questions about who's here and what the plan is. I assume that he's talking about if this was happening to save Sam and Dean. Dean quickly put those thoughts to rest with his response of, "Whatever's out there, it's not here to come save us."

Henriksen storms out of the room, not happy in the slightest. Dean, Sam, and I sit back down to relax as much as we can before shit hits the fan. I have a feeling that it's going to be soon.

I couldn't tell you how much time passes before Henriksen comes back in with the sheriff. An argument between them breaks out about whether or not they should leave. Too quick for my eyes to follow, Henriksen has pulled out his gun and shot Melvin in the head.

Henriksen walks into my cell and fires his gun at me, but misses. Swinging my arm around, I knock the gun onto the floor where I kick it toward Sam and Dean. I'm not sure if the gun makes it there or not, but I have much more to worry about at the moment. I start to struggle with Henriksen.

I knock Henriksen's knees out from under him and somehow manage to get his head in the water of the toilet. I immediately begin an exorcism on him when I hear Phil come in the doors. I hear Dean yelling at him to stay back while Sam yells to me to hurry up.

Henriksen's head rears back and I notice that his eyes are now black. He says, "It's too late. I already called them. They're already coming." I shove him back into the water as quick as I can and finish the exorcism. With a final shove back towards me, black smoke leaks out of Henriksen's mouth and he falls back, right on top of me.

"Is he dead?" I hear Nancy's timid voice come from somewhere behind me.

I continue to try and shove Henriksen off, but it's hard in the position that I'm in. I don't have any leverage. I don't have to wait long, though, because Henriksen sits up and starts to cough water up. I scramble away from him and press myself against the far wall. "Are you in there? You alright Henriksen?" I hoped he was alright. I'm about ready to fall over and sleep. I think it has been about two days since I slept last.

Henriksen sits on the bed that's in my cell. Disbelievingly, he says, "I shot the sheriff."

Dean, ever the asshole, remarks, "But you didn't shoot the deputy." He laughs, but it dies when he sees Sam's look of disbelief.

Dean and Sam take care of the "yes, you were possessed" conversation for me. Afterwards, Henriksen asks for the keys to our cuffs and unlocks them. Mine first, then Sam and Dean's. All three of us come out of our cells and meet with Henriksen and the rest of the staff out in the office area.

With a look of utter seriousness, Henriksen turns to us and asks, "Alright. How do we survive?"

I sigh. The demon that was inside Groves was absolutely right. This is going to be a long ass night.

::+::+::+::

**AN: **Well folks, this was chapter two! I know that it was shorter than chapter one, but I promise that I'll try my hardest to have chapter three be super long. So long, that you'll be begging for it to end. Okay, maybe not quite that long, but you get what I mean. Thanks for reading. Please, please, please review!


End file.
